Most of us who actually went to our high school proms remember it as a mess of broken hearts and failed expectations. Luckily, Secondhand Prom, WORN’s issue 16 launch party, was a lot more fun. On June 8th, Toronto Wornettes came out in their pouffiest dresses and handmade corsages to drink spiked punch, dance to Cyndi Lauper and, of course, pose for our photo booth. There are more photos on our Facebook page.

photography // Claire Ward-Beveridge, Josh Allsopp and Laura Tuttle

Growing up in the suburbs of Ottawa, I used to ride my bike to the Quickie Mart and the video store to buy Bop and Teen Beat and rent Clueless. I loved Cher’s plaid mini-skirts and knee-high socks but felt most at home in the baggy jeans and flannel shirts of my ’90s generation. I’ve felt torn between contrasting styles ever since. From preppy to bohemian, punk, and vintage, I’ve experimented with many looks but rarely felt confident enough to pull them off. Instead, I’ve settled on a wardrobe of neutral basics in which I always feel at ease.

Reconciling my casual personal style with the more adventurous fashion items I admire is where my love of fashion media comes in. Magazines, blogs, memoirs, and friends allow me to explore my love of bolder pieces vicariously. As someone who works out the world through writing, telling stories about fashion has given me an outlet for working through my bold vs. basic conflict. Every once in a while, it has even pushed me out of my comfort zone and into the beautifully tailored studded-shoulder romper that sits in my closet far too many days of the year. I can’t think of anywhere better than WORN to (ever-so-gently) push me even further.

Current Inspirations

Menswear Dog
Usually I don’t condone exploiting your pet for the sake of entertainment, but this website combines two of my favourite things (dogs and fashion) impeccably. Funny as it may sound, the outfits are a great starting point for a menswear-inspired look, and Bodhi’s re-creation of outfits from Ryan Gosling’s leading movie rolls are eerily on point.

Anthology Magazine
This quarterly home décor and entertaining magazine embraces the fact that people still appreciate a physical print publication and, like WORN, its beautifully decorated and photographed editorials are timeless. As someone whose love of design goes far beyond fashion, I find Anthology’s coverage of creativity in all facets of living inspiring, and reading it has encouraged me to take more pleasure out of everyday activities like cooking dinner and organizing my work space.

NPR’s Tiny Desk Concerts
Over the past year I’ve found myself drawn more and more to public broadcasters and the unique stories they bring to us. I also love intimate concert sessions à la Black Cab Sessions and La Blogotheque, and this set from NPR is just as addictive. All Songs Considered host Bob Boilen’s desk is the perfect venue to showcase the voices of musicians like First Aid Kit, and the shows are the perfect soundtrack for a lazy summer afternoon.

National Geographic Found Tumblr
Pulling from 125 years of archived National Geographic photographs, this Tumblr includes everything from portraits to travel photography and key moments in history. In doing so, it manages to document fashion from all around the world over the past century without even trying.

Cupcakes and Cashmere
This blog has been around for ages but it never stops putting a smile on my face. Emily is like the cool older sister I never had, and starting my day off with her newest post just feels right. Her style is casual and accessible and her posts about food, fashion, and her home inspire me to appreciate the everyday.

text // Eva Voinigescu
photography // Paige Sabourin

I’ve spent the past four years of my life immersed in the Human Ecology degree program at the University of Alberta. As a Clothing, Textiles, and Material Culture major, I’ve taken courses that consider the cultural, economic, social, and personal contexts that impact the ways in which we adorn our bodies and present ourselves to the world. When I discovered that WORN publishes creative, intelligent content about fashion’s many facets, I decided to move to Toronto for a couple months to complete my practicum… and become a wornette!

My relationship with clothing tends toward the historical, yet remains grounded in what’s practical. When I do have time to sew (I wish I could find more), I get on my mom’s sewing machine from the ’80s and stitch together vintage-inspired projects. Mostly, though, I mend the garments that I’ve worn through. My mom’s cousin gave me a floral dress that she wore to parties in the ’70s, and that I would wear on my first day of grade 12. I tore the armhole seams as I kept the dress in heavy rotation, and I ended up sewing and re-sewing the same curved lines. The thread unraveled and the fabric tore away, but that’s what happens to clothing when it’s worn—it’s not so terrible.

Working at WORN will bring me closer to the personal histories of dress that I so dearly enjoy. Through reading (WORN has a stunning collection of books on dress and culture/subculture), interviewing a few local artists and designers, and writing about “clothes” encounters, I’ll be able to further explore our dressed selves in context. To get my daily inspiration of personal interpretations on fashion, I’ll need to look no further than the decidedly individual wornettes.

Current Inspirations

Are Clothes Modern? Or, What We Talk About When We Talk About “Dress”
Swedish costume historian A. E. Funk documents what she’s been reading in books and around the net in a Tumblr-like format, only she appears to find her captions first and then adds the eye-catching images.

Brain Pickings
If you don’t have time to read all those books on your list, click over here for a well-curated selection of quotes from interesting authors and cultural icons on writing, reading, and the creative life, among other things.

Obakki’s Treana Peake speaks at Vancouver’s Creative Mornings
A designer with a conscience, Peake is refreshingly open about her internal struggle over her work in an industry that requires human hands to create the garments, but rarely pays attention to documenting their stories.

Nardwuar
I recently re-discovered this Toronto-based master of the quirky interview. After watching him on MuchMusic growing up, I’ve enjoyed keeping up with him as he researches like mad and then surprises musical artists of all genres with his obscure questions and gifts.

Vogue Archive
An absolute must when doing fashion photographic research, this collection of Vogue from 1892 to the present has some real gems, including Anjelica Huston shot by Richard Avedon for a 1969 issue.

photography // Stephanie Chunoo and Tabitha Poeze

What inspired this outfit?
The flowers blooming all around the city. Every time I walk out my front door the sweet smell of lilacs and dogwood floating through the air pumps me up with glittery spring energy. I’ve also been working in my garden nonstop, and the tiny green leaves sprouting and forming into beautiful blooms is almost enough to burst my still-thawing-from-winter heart.

Tell me about one of the items you’re wearing.
Well my dog Honey is… just kidding I don’t consider her an accessory, just my bestie. I’m really very excited about my new Karen Walker sunglasses. I’ve had the same dark Ray-ban wayfarers since I turned sixteen, and although I still agree they’re a classic, I got to a point where I needed a little more glamour. I quit my job to indulge in my fantasy of writing for a living, and splurged on these big tortoiseshell babies. They make every outfit feel a little more important.

What’s the best book to read in this outfit?
I’d have to say In the Age of Miracles by Karen Thompson Walker (NOT the same as Karen Walker). Only the hardcover though: it’s covered with a floral print very similar to my dress and matching is very important, wouldn’t you say? On a deeper level though, this novel talks a lot about the loss of seasons, of fresh fruit and flowers diminishing as the world decays sometime in the not-so-far off future. It reminded me not to take these simple pleasures for granted when I read it about a month ago, and since I’ve felt like the details of the world are a little more vivid and exciting than they used to be.

What style icon would wear this outfit?
Oh maybe Alice in Wonderland if she was trying to pass as a flower instead of a weed in the garden of discriminatory blooms. Or a grown up, modern mini-moon? OH, I KNOW! Princess Bubblegum of the Candy Kingdom from Adventure Time. I think she loves pink and sweets almost as much as me. Almost.

outfit credits //
Dress by Topshop, jacket from Levis, sandals by a store in Scotland I can’t quite remember, tote bag made by Caitlin Shearer, glasses by Karen Walker, and Honey the dog from a Kentucky shelter.

photography // Stephanie Chunoo

There are crushes, and then there are crushes. Lena Suksi and I have been friends for almost a year, and she’s easy to love for a number of reasons. A thoughtful dresser, queer in all respects, and a talented artist and writer, she’s the type that can make anyone weak in the knees.

How do you feel about clothes?
I admire and respect people who have a primary relationship with clothes—people who take a more formal approach and are drawn to details, drape, and other specific elements of the garment itself. I think that when I get dressed I treat clothes as secondary objects. It’s important and meaningful to me, but I tend to get dressed in response to a mood. How I’m dressed is informed by an experience or a circumstance. Clothes respond to this; I don’t respond to the clothes. I like lockets, friendship bracelets, tattoos, haircuts—all of these are items I exchange with people. That’s when fashion is most meaningful to me.

One thing I’ve noticed about you is you tend to go through phases where you will wear something again and again.
There are certain things I pick up or find and I feel like they tend to reflect where I am at in a certain moment. So many of my clothes are given to me—hand-me-downs from friends or family. I get a piece of clothing and I think okay, this is where I am at right now. I have these strappy little prom heels that I wore everyday for about a month straight. I have never been comfortable in heels before and never thought I would be. Though, when I put them on I really liked being four inches taller. I couldn’t shed that feeling so quickly. I wore them everywhere. I was biking home one day and ended up in some construction zone digging for scrap wood and sunk my foot into a sandy muddy mess. My heels were just covered in filth. I thought it was hilarious. It reflected how I feel about formal or flashy things. I eventually hosed them down in the shower but wore them dirty as long as I could stand them.

Other than the obvious reasons, why wouldn’t you feel comfortable wearing heels?
Maybe comfortable is the wrong word. I just know that some things feel more neutral, and more feminine elements feel like drag to me. I’m aware of their power when they are on my body. Heels were one of those things. I never learned to walk in them, and it never became natural. I was hyper-aware of how they affected my body. I think of queer fashion as being aware of anything you’re wearing, being conscious of its effects in the world—knowing the performance. All of the things I refused to wear in high school I’m starting to play around with now. It’s not like I feel like I’m growing into elegance; it’s more for comic effect. I want to emphasize how unfit some things feel on me.

What did you dress like as a teenager?
I was kind of a goth. Dyed black hair, eyeliner, fishnets. On April Fool’s I dressed up in a pink velour sweat suit as a joke. All of the teachers told me how great I looked—so perfect. There’s always a jive between intention and result in fashion. Sometimes you have no idea what the reaction will be. I like to set up for the unexpected.

Do you shop on a regular basis?
No. Two or three times a year maybe? I do buy a lot of socks and hosiery though, because it’s cheap and colourful. I like to receive things. I am more of a garbage picker rather than someone who searches for a perfect item. Whatever is left over I get to scavenge through. Sometimes I buy things I get really excited about, things I get lucky to find. Like the shirt I’m wearing right now – it’s a Felix Gonzales-Torres t-shirt. I ordered it online for 10 bucks. J. Morrison did the design. It’s from a series of t-shirts recognizing artists, which are all kind of hilariously literal. Like a rainbow Yoko Ono shirt, or a Yayoi Kusama print with little dots. They are cheap and accessible and probably were screen-printed in a day. They run about 15 dollars, but this one was cheaper in the spirit of Gonzales-Torres’s work.

Do you have favourite items of clothing?
All of my clothes tell stories, and I have a lot of clothes. There are things that I get that I won’t wear, but also things that I will wear all the time. My jean jacket is pretty important—it’s covered in patches that I’ve made or friends have made. I’ve had it for a couple of years. It kind of came into being on a trip to Montreal. I made a bunch of patches with friends in Montreal. I haven’t spent much time with groups of women, but whenever I go to Montreal I do. It’s a really woman-friendly place. Consciousness raising exists there in a way that I don’t think exists in Toronto. It’s a supportive community for women, just for the sake of women being together. Making this jacket was the first time I had stitched in my life. It was satisfying.

Have you continued to work in textiles and craft?
Yes—I’ve been fascinated with it. I started appreciating textiles when my drawing slowed down a bit. Textiles were a nice shift. They can be a very immediate process—silk screening is kind of instant in ways. But I also feel like it’s a slowed-down practice of drawing. I’ve started doing embroidery and other needlework and like that it’s portable, feminine, and often a collective practice.

You’re very conscious of how your body is adorned and what that can mean.
When I was in my teens I realized how comfortable I was being androgynous. People were already reacting to my gender presentation with confusion, so I enjoyed playing it up. Maybe that’s why I like playing with femininity so much now. It’s not about trying to fit a norm; rather, it’s about bringing attention to these conventions. When I was in high school in London, Ontario, my androgyny was an antagonistic thing. In Toronto, it’s more acceptable to play with style in this way.

interview // Jenna Danchuk
photography // Laura Tuttle

Tomorrow night, WORN Fashion Journal invites you to Secondhand Prom, the release party for our newly minted issue 16. For most of us, our high school years might be over, but that doesn’t mean we’ll turn down a chance to channel our inner Molly-Ringwalds-circa-1986.

Wear whatever you want—prom attire preferred, but not required. Got a floor-length ballgown? Bring it! Never leave the house without your Converse? Wear ‘em! Accessorize with the WORN corsages and boutonnieres available at the event.

Saturday, June 8th, 2013

Church of the Holy Trinity

10 Trinity Square (at Yonge and Dundas)

$4 beers

$5 spiked punch

Get your mom to drop you off at: 9:30 p.m.

Better run home, your curfew is: 2:00 a.m.

Ticket includes admission and a sugary sweet copy of WORN Issue 16

The event is fully wheelchair accessible, with an exterior wheelchair access ramp on the south side of the building, and a wheelchair-accessible washroom immediately beside the accessible entrance inside (on the south side of the room). When you arrive, please come to the main entrance on the west side of the building, and one of our Wornettes will be happy to assist you.

SPONSORED BY

BlogTO

She Does The City

Corey Moranis

Steam Whistle

OSC Cross

Ontario Arts Council

video // Daniel Reis
title design // Maegan Fidelino

The Wornettes invite you to come shop our closets at the Junction Flea on Sunday, June 9. We’ve raided our wardrobes and are looking for a good home for our previously loved vintage duds. If you can’t make it to our Secondhand Prom the night before (in which case: shame on you!), we will have copies of issue 16 for sale as well.

video // Daniel Reis

I dragged myself to prom, dressed up like a doll with a broken heart in hand instead of a clutch purse. The boy that I was convinced to be my soulmate had just broken up with me. As in, the day before.

I was absolutely devastated. My life was over. How could I even begin to think about manicures and hairspray? (In retrospect this meltdown is faintly humorous, considering just a few months later I came out as a loud and proud member of the queer community… but I didn’t know that then.) From start to finish, the “fun” day of preparation my mom and I had once been thrilled about melted into a puddle at my feet. Filled with the choking back of tears and the correcting of smudged-off makeup, hairstylists and photographers shook their head in pity. The only reason I can be seen smiling in any photos at all that day is because I had momentarily convinced myself (and him) that we were getting back together. Thanks to this clever emotional manipulation, my fake lashes and glittery pink blush stayed perfectly intact that night… until my dreams of romance were shattered the next day by his “I’m so over it” response.

Years after prom, most people regret their bridal-style dresses, their bedazzled shoes, their hilarious but trendy-at-the-time makeup and hair choices. I don’t have those feelings: I still admire my combination of turquoise and baby pink, my glittery silver shoes, my oversize bow-topped cocktail dress, and my matching heart-shaped glasses. I looked different from every other girl at my prom, and I’m proud my undeveloped self had the guts to do that. The only regret I have is that I let some teenage boy dim my sparkle. // Alyssa Garrison

Pretty in Pink and Blue and Teal and Sparkles

I couldn’t find a full-length photo of the dress I wore to prom; only this cropped, cut-up one, which shows most of my torso. Believe me when I say this dress was extremely out of character for me—it was floor-length, as multicoloured as a dream coat, and covered in beads and sequins with a hot pink halter top. I favour black, white, neutrals, and minimal designs overall; I’m not sure what came over me when I bought it.

Actually, no, I know exactly what came over me. As a teenager, I was obsessed with what other people did and thought. I never saw a cool girl in the hallway without wanting to do or wear whatever she was doing or wearing, which led to some pretty horrible outfits. I wore lace-up Parasuco jeans, glittery pink babydoll tees, Uggs—if a “cool girl” wore it you could bet I used all my minimum-wage paycheque to buy it. You can imagine my disappointment when the cool girls showed up to prom wearing matching short, pastel-coloured dresses.

I think we all eventually settle into the style we’re meant to have. For me, my prom dress was not the last time I bought something because I thought it would help me blend in, and it definitely is not the worst example, but there’s something about it in particular that makes me pause. Looking at this photo reminded me of how long it took for me to figure out what I liked, what I looked best in, which dresses for important occasions would make me happy. Anyway, I know better than to plan on forgetting. To quote everyone’s favourite writer, Joan Didion, “I think we are well advised to keep on nodding terms with the people we used to be, whether we find them attractive company or not. Otherwise they turn up unannounced and surprise us, come hammering on the mind’s door at 4 a.m. of a bad night and demand to know who deserted them, who betrayed them, who is going to make amends”—and I would add, demanding to know: who let them wear that dress outside the house. // Haley Mlotek

A night to remember, a night to forget

I’ve always loved proms. I had been planning mine, from my date (Landon, purple hair) to my dress (black and red, leather wristband), since I was 10. When I was in Grade 11, I decided I had waited long enough and hooked myself up with two tickets for myself and my beautiful best friend, Stas. I was a hippie in pastels those days, and my ensemble was a light pink sparkly dress and pastel green cardigan with fire engine-red hair. Stas came straight from his landscaping gig in a tan, a pair of bright blue pants, and a seventies vest, and we had an amazing time dancing the night away with our friends at what ended up being a dud of a prom. Still, I’m glad I went before senior year, because there was no pressure that this had to be a night to culminate our high school careers. We just enjoyed each other’s company and looked ridiculous.

My next prom was serious business. Because I was hung up on my body, I wore a flattering, pretty black dress and cool black headband, but when one of my best friends showed up wearing the poufy, yellow, vintage dress I wished I had worn, I immediately regretted my choice. Some of my other best friends got kicked out before even entering after being caught with alcohol, but the rest of us stayed to dance. The night was technically a success, though not particularly memorable. I had gotten my prom-mania out of my system the first time around. // Anna Cunningham

Wornlings that go to prom together, stay together

As are most things that Alexandra and I do in our lives, prom dress shopping was done together. I had a very simple plan—or so I thought—of finding the dress of my dreams online, going in-store, trying it on, and falling in love with it in person. But alas, trouble ensued when I spotted another dress. I decided that it was my prerogative to change my mind and switched one dress for another, only to immediately regret it. The trouble with buying one’s prom dress in March when prom isn’t until June is the plethora of gowns that can cause many a nervous breakdown and glittery perspiration in the meantime—kind of like a season of The Bachelorette (so I’ve heard). In the lead-up to prom, I ended up exchanging my dress a second time and going with my first pick. I know I ended up making the right choice. I think. // Stephanie Chunoo

I had a very distinct reference point for my prom look: Marilyn Monroe in The Seven Year Itch (subway grate not included). I wanted a breezy halter dress that went just past my knees in a demure midnight blue. What I got instead was a long, fuchsia-coloured gown with lace cut-outs. Pretty much the diametric opposite of what I initially planned, to no surprise, thanks to Steph. She picked the dress out and knew that I had to try it on. Despite thinking that it looked like a doily my grandmother uses under her flowerpots, I reluctantly tried it on and fell in love. It was a pure Say Yes to the Dress moment minus the fussy mother-in-laws and “jacking up.” It has become one of my most treasured items of clothing, and as cliché as it is, I’m glad I listened to Steph. // Alexandra Chronopoulos

Diamond Dogs

For me, 2007 was the year of graduating high school, choosing universities, the year of figuring out what it is exactly you want to do with your life. But mostly it was the year of choosing that perfect prom outfit. Both my parents never went to their prom. Their crowd was a mixture of punks and hippies when they graduated, so they believed that prom was uncool and no fun. I, on the other hand, had been seduced by the prom experiences of the Gilmore Girls and Sabrina the Teenage Witch. I just had to experience the dancing, the romance, and the dress.

Neither my prom dress nor my shoes were the most important item for me to feature. What I wanted was to have an amazing hat. Hats were my favorite piece of clothing in high school. I would wear bowler hats, fascinators, and occasionally even a teacup on my head. I knew that I needed to have the best hat imaginable, so I took inspiration from my favorite artist at the time, Jeff Koons. I had been in love with his balloon dog sculptures and wanted to recreate that on my head. I researched how to make a balloon dog, I followed all the steps, and voila. I was so pleased with myself for learning this trick.

I decided I wanted it to last well after prom was over so I covered it in paper maché. After it dried I bought cheap CDs from the dollar store and cut them into small squares. I glued them onto the paper maché dog, transforming it into a disco dog. After everything dried, I glued it to a headband, put on my pink dress, and to bring the whole outfit together I wrapped a string of faux pearls around a pair of safety scissors and wore them around my neck. The process of preparing for the prom felt like the most important part of the whole event, and I will always look back on it and smile because I had so much fun and have no regrets. // Eliza Trent-Rennick

Girls with the most cake

I wasn’t even sure that I was even going to go to my prom until about the month before. I was very much not into doing established high school events. But all of my friends were going, and I eventually gave in. I went to The Big City with my best friend and my step-mom, and we just trolled the mall for HOURS trying to find something that a) fit me and b) wasn’t terrifying. Everything was very floofy and pink and sequined… and not me at all. I wound up at this old lady store (name since forgotten) and found a slinky black gown on the sale shelf. It had black beading on the neckline and straps, and culminated in a mini train. I added jewelry the colour of blood, because rebel. It was also my first experience with foundation garments, which wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. I was definitely not the best-dressed person there, though—my friend Sarah made an entire gown out of duct tape, turned it red with permanent marker, and made a bag to match. She looked incredible.

In the end, the whole thing was pretty much not a big deal for me. I worked most of the day, then I think I got a haircut, and as you can see, I did not bother to get it styled or anything. I just went home and got dressed and then met my friends. It turned out that my level of effort was the exact right level of effort to put in, because the event itself was TERRIBLE. My friends and I cut out early, bought cake, and hung out down at the lake until like 4:00 a.m.—altogether a much better use of our time, and definitely a much better memory. // Megan Patterson

Geek to chic in one fell swoop

The dress I wore to my high school prom was uncharacteristically feminine. It was all layers of soft tulle and sweet ribbons, which transformed me from an awkward mathlete metalhead into a ballerina fairy princess. When I look back at the photos, it is painfully obvious to me that this dress did not fit, especially in the area where breasts are supposed to be. I had to secure the strapless bodice to my skin with double sided tape, which left nasty marks on my back. My fantastic mother ensured the dress was perfectly accessorized, but I didn’t think being perfectly accessorized was cool, so I smuggled a beat-up, vintage black purse out the door to replace the pink satin one she had bought me. I also brought to prom my nasty habit of never wearing shoes ever and carried my silvery-pink heels around for most of the night. // Brianne Burnell

Make way for Prince Ali

Prom was not a big deal for me. High school was something to survive and move past, not an era to commemorate. I broke up with the first guy I ever dated a month before, so I didn’t even get to invite him and make a gay rights stand against my school’s homophobic bullies.

If I had had the sartorial bravery I have now I would have worn something crazy, like a fuchsia Nehru jacket or something. (Who am I kidding? I would have difficulty wearing that now.) Instead, I rented a tux. Looking back, I’m jealous of my girlfriends who bought prom dresses—when you rent a garment, especially something as standard as a tuxedo, you feel an unavoidable distance towards it. At least I knew how to wear it. The friend I took to try it on pointed out many guys there that didn’t remember to tuck in the shirt.

The best part of prom was the getting ready. My friends and I got all into it, posing for pictures with our moms and singing along to the car radio as we picked people up. The actual event was a dull letdown. Nothing happened. The DJ played ‘A Whole New World’ from Aladdin. We stared blankly. We had played dress up, but our formal clothes couldn’t make the night significant. // Max Mosher

Cinderella’s mice need not apply

At the beginning of my final year of high school, my mom and I stumbled upon a clearance of shimmery, floor-length skirts at a bridal shop in the mall. After much debate between the many colours, I set my heart upon the wine coloured one and began my matching mission. I dedicated my lunch hour every Tuesday and Thursday (since every other one was spent in choir rehearsals) to sewing in the home ec room alone and managed to produce an entirely wine-coloured outfit consisting of an ankle-length, heavy wool coat, which I wore for only a split-second from the house to the limo, a velvet corset, and a matching clutch that I made by covering a small cardboard box with leftover fabric and beads. To top it all off, I got my sister to put Manic Panic “rose” coloured streaks in my hair and painted all of my nails the same colour. Looking back at the photos a decade later, I can still feel the uncomfortable prickle of the unruly strings of upholstery bead trim that I lined my corset top with. // Angela Leung

Queen for a day

During the time of my prom, I was at the height of my eating disorder. Less than 96 pounds of flesh hung on my 5’5 frame, and I was constantly starving. While many girls at my school had bought dresses a year ahead, I only went shopping with my mom the month before.

We went to a few stores in the mall. Nothing pleased me.

Then I saw it—the tan dress, so light it was almost made of air, a back wrapped in thin lace, with matching capped sleeves and some lace trim at the bottom. They didn’t have size zero, which was my default size by then (the goal, finally accomplished). So instead I climbed into a slightly baggy size two, which hung a little off my hips. At the time, the dress was perfect: it covered my chest, my hips. I wasn’t comfortable exposing too much skin, but I didn’t want a floor-length gown either. It was $400. My mother bought it, the size two which ate at me all the way home, and I wore it with nude heels the day of my prom. Perhaps I was a little too pale—I was coming from a day of work, so I hadn’t gotten my hair or makeup done—perhaps the dress blended in too much. But I felt good. For the first time in a while, I felt good.

I even ate that day. // Sofie Mikhaylova

Feel like your prom experience needs a makeover? Join us this Saturday at WORN’s very own Secondhand Prom and make some new memories!

Condé Nast’s most recent literary exploit, Vogue: The Editor’s Eye is an ode to the role of the stylist, fashion editor or sittings editor – the glue between the photographer, the model, the writer and the magazine itself. Beginning with Anna Wintour’s forward, The Editor’s Eye explains that until recently, stylists weren’t even identified in the credits for the photo shoots they coordinated, a ghastly oversight considering the influence they wield over a spread. The book is in some part an attempt to rectify this omission, giving the stylists the credit they deserve. Through an anthology of essays and accompanying image portfolios, it showcases some of the magazine’s most talented stylists throughout the last 65 years, with a particular focus on how their different personalities helped shape the various trends we have seen in fashion editorial.

I enjoyed the journey through Vogue’s history, starting in 1947 with Babs Simpson. The book effectively distinguished between the magazine’s different eras – loosely based on the editor in chief at the time (from Dianne Vreeland, to Grace Mirabella and then Wintour) – focusing on how the reigning editors inspired and collaborated with the sittings editors at the time. The eight essays, each focussing on a different sittings editor, were eloquent and insightful, and overall a pleasurable read. I especially enjoyed the essays on Jade Hobson, Carlyne Cerf de Dudzeele and Tonne Goodman; I thought their profiles really captured their individual attitudes and styles. The various essayists also succeeded at painting a fascinating picture of a seemingly golden epoch for fashion editorial during the 60’s and 70’s.

Each profile was accompanied by a portfolio of images to underscore the theme; I found the photos striking and timeless for the most part, though I think certain portfolios did a better job of highlighting their stylists’ approach than others. I thought Camilla Nickerson’s body of work included in the book added great insight into her personality and modus operandi; it was thematic, tight and complemented the essay well. Same goes for Jade Hobson and Babs Simpson. However, there were times when I found it difficult to distinguish the differences between certain editors’ styles, and I didn’t think the images accompanying the essays always illustrated the point the writers were trying to get across. As an anthology, it wasn’t very cohesive; though in their own right the profiles and portfolios were certainly effective.

If you consider Vogue your fashion bible you will enjoy this book. But, make no mistake, this is a book published by Vogue, written by Vogue writers, about how great Vogue is. For a more ambivalent reader seeking an unbiased gaze into the fashion editorial field as a whole (including influences from other magazines), you may want to keep reading.

photography // Brianne Burnell

What inspired this outfit?
The weather (finally warm-ish enough to wear my beloved leather jacket), the music I was indulging in that day (The Talking Heads, Dirty Projectors, Amy Winehouse, and some good ol’ Red Hot Chili Peppers) and my funky grandmother’s love for Betty Boop.

Tell me about one of the items you’re wearing.
The Betty Boop shirt is Oma’s (being Dutch, it’s custom to call our grandmothers ‘Oma’). Oma dresses mostly in her favourite/signature colour, orange, and never leaves the house without the perfect arrangement of necklaces, earrings and a sparkly brooch. This shirt was a treasure I found one day in her museum-esque house. She was shocked and thrilled to see me taking Betty out for the day.

What’s the best book to read in this outfit?
Just Kids (one of my favorites) is always the book for me. A day doesn’t go by where I don’t think about one thing or another that Patti talks about in this sweet memoir about her and Robert Mapplethorpe’s beginning in NYC. She speaks so honestly about love, youth, struggle, and discovering new potential. I love the rawness when she describes the two of them creating art together, and of course the thought and time put into creating the outfits they sported on the streets of the city.

What style icon would wear this outfit?
I would definitely credit Patti Smith and Robert Mapplethorpe’s trademark styles mashed together as inspiration for my attire. Patti’s effortless, comfy-cool style mixed with Robert’s love of trinkets and jewels that possess sentimental value come together perfectly for me. Those two combined with my love of quality over quantity in dressing (besides the number of layers that are needed to keep a southern girl comfortable in Canada) makes for an outfit that’s ready to rock a city sidewalk and feel like the comfort of home simultaneously.

Outfit Credits //
T-shirt from Oma’s closet, cashmere sweater from Saks, cashmere scarf from Bungalow, leather jacket from a flea market in Elmvale, H&M pants, Joe Fresh trouser socks, thrift store sunglasses, hat sewn by (wornette) Angela Leung), shoes by Zara from MTL Salvation Army, lizard brooch Marc by Marc Jacobs, (Mom’s) rings, necklace and silver bracelet from Mexico, (Dad’s) copper bracelet.

photography // Stephanie Chunoo